Twisted Realities
by She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Sane
Summary: What if one thing changed in the Department of Mysteries? How can just one thing change the future in so many ways? Begins during the battle in the Department of Mysteries. A 'what if' AU. Rated for violence, torture and language.
1. Resistance

Disclaimer: I'm not J K Rowling (as if anyone actually thought that) and I don't own Harry Potter. I'm just writing for fun, not profit.

This story is AU (alternate universe) and it's not happy good things happen AU.

I love reviews telling me what I'm doing wrong or right (I nag people who don't give me any criticism in their review, I know that I need to improve my writing), incidentally hint… I even love flames! I toast marshmallows on them!

And most importantly this fic is dedicated to Hannah. We'll always love and remember you. Enjoy your next great adventure.

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**Twisted Realities**

**Resistance **

_Harry - Friday 1:25am_

_Harry saw Sirius duck Bellatrix's jet of red light; he was laughing at her._

"_Come on, you can do better than that!" He yelled, his voice echoing around._

A dazzling light shot from Bellatrix's wand, heading straight for Sirius. Harry struggled in Remus's grip, his heart pumping wildly.

As if noticing his struggle, Sirius glanced at Harry, the teasing sparkle dying in his eyes when he saw the look of pure panic written across Harry's face.

Harry gave a huge sigh of relief as Sirius began to take the duel seriously, followed by a gasp of horror when a cutting hex sliced through Sirius's shoulder, narrowly missed where the large artery lay, but causing pain nonetheless.

Desperate to help, Harry continued to struggle to no avail. He needed to help Sirius! He was hurt. Why couldn't Remus see that? Harry shifted round in Remus's arms, now facing him, silently pleading to help his godfather; Remus just shook his head. Harry spared a glace at Neville, who was pressed against the stone wall behind Remus, his adrenaline fuelled bravery slipping away, before turning back to the battle before him. He shuddered as an icy tendril of fear wound its way around him; Voldemort was there. Harry froze as crimson eyes flashed his way, meeting emerald green ones.

A moment later the Dark Lord had returned to the ongoing battle between the Order and the Death Eaters. Dumbledore was duelling him with such an intensity that showed Harry exactly why Voldemort feared Dumbledore. Harry could see that there was an even match in the fight between Death Eaters and Order members, despite the fact that there were a half a dozen more Death Eaters than there were Order members.

Through the cascade of curses between Sirius and Bellatrix, Harry saw Moody go down in a spectacular fireworks display as a stray spell from Voldemort hit him in the back. Luckily he only seemed to be unconscious. However, the three Death Eaters he had been duelling cheered in triumph and returned to the battle, now attacking Order members from behind. A surge of worry passed through Harry; the Death Eaters were winning!

"Harry…" Harry could barely hear Remus's voice over the shouts and screams of the battle.

"Go. They need you!" Harry said before Remus could ask the question, wincing as Kingsley was attacked with a burning hex.

"Promise me, Harry. Promise me you'll keep yourself out of danger. Promise me you'll stay here." Harry nodded, averting his eyes; it was obvious he had no intention of staying in that spot and doing nothing to help the Order. Remus placed his finger under Harry's chin and gently pulled his head up so their eyes met.

"I'm serious, Harry." Harry longed to look away from those eyes. "By jumping into this battle you could get yourself, or any of your friends, hurt. More than they already are!" Harry winced, Harry knew Remus was manipulating his emotions, but it was working. Harry knew he had already caused enough damage by dragging his friends here. This whole battle was his fault!

"I…" there was a second of hesitation, "I won't move from his spot." Remus gave a quick nod and turned away, "…unless I need to," Harry added quietly. Remus zipped around; for a second Harry thought he had heard him, but all Remus did was offer him a brief hug before evening the sides in the increasingly violent battle.

Harry was following Remus's progress when a shocked gasp from Neville brought Harry's attention back to the duel between Sirius and Bellatrix just in time to see a dazzling orange light slam into Sirius's chest. Sirius's eyes widened in surprise and pain as he toppled backwards, flailing his arms as he tried to gather his balance to no avail. Time seemed to have slowed down as he continued to fall, his body curving into a graceful, yet oddly morbid arc…

The world seemed to stand still, everybody turned towards the dais and archway as Bellatrix gave a scream of delight. Harry's breath hitched in his throat. Hermione had said that the veil was dangerous, and the chances of Hermione being wrong…

With a loud thud that echoed through the almost silent chamber, Sirius's shoulder hit the stone archway. He screamed in pain, everyone could see that the impact had dislocated his shoulder. As time returned to normal, Sirius's head hit the hard, stone floor, as he was knocked into unconsciousness.

Ignoring Neville's feeble protests, Harry ran forwards, barely aware of what he was doing; the only thought of Sirius being hurt running through his mind. He ground to a halt about ten feet from Bellatrix as he realised his promise to Remus.

However, the promise was quickly forced from his mind as he saw Bellatrix raise her wand and aim it at the unconscious form of Sirius, a feral glint in her cold eyes.

"Avada-"

"STUPEFY!" Harry screamed, dreading the cruel flash of green light that he had seen in his nightmares for as long as he could remember.

A surge of emotion. A blinding flash of light. Bellatrix flying backwards. A loud crack. A scream of pain. Blood dripping down the dais, forming little rivers in the crevices of the stone. The clatter of wood on stone as a lifeless hand lost its grasp on a wand.

Bellatrix Lestrange was dead.

He had killed her.

He had killed someone.

He had wanted her dead.

He was a murderer.

Harry's breath caught in his throat as an icy wave swept over him; if he hadn't known better he would have said that there were some dementors around. He couldn't breathe; he was suffocating. He dropped to the floor, unable to support himself any more. A shrill whine filled Harry's head. He couldn't think, it hurt to think. To think would be to accept what he'd done. Trembling, Harry dropped his wand and buried his face in his hands, still unable to comprehend what he'd done.

He never saw Dumbledore's heartbroken face, wishing that Harry wouldn't have to go through this at only fifteen years old. He didn't see the astonishment tinged with relief written across Neville's face. He didn't see the dark shadow lurking behind him. No one did. They were too stunned by the sight of Voldemort's favourite Death Eater lying dead, killed by a stunning spell from a fifteen year old.

Harry gave a startled yelp as cold, long-fingered hands forcefully grabbed his neck whilst the other arm swiftly cast a binding charm on his upper body. Harry instinctively cried out in alarm as thick, coarse ropes wound their way around his torso, digging into his skin and stopping any movement of his arms.

Harry's mind was still in shock, meaning Harry was left to rely on his instincts only, causing him to thrash around wildly in the Death Eater's grip. He could hear Voldemort's maniacal laughter, which only added to his agitation. As Harry's legs were free from rope, he was repeatedly kicking his assailant. However, he found his struggled to be futile; whether it was due to his own shock and exhaustion, or simply the fact that the Death Eater was stronger than him, Harry did not know.

Harry froze completely when the cold point of a wand was jammed into the part of his neck above where those cold fingers were wrapped.

"L-Let him… Let h-him g-go!"

Harry opened his eyes, he hadn't even realised they were closed. Neville's voice had knocked him out of his stunned state.

But Neville… What in Merlin's name…?

When Harry looked up, he saw why.

Everyone was still fighting, now desperately. The Order franticly trying to untangle themselves from the net of Death Eaters so as to help Harry, the Death Eaters just as franticly trying duelling so as not to disappoint their Lord and be punished later on. Dumbledore was still engaged with Voldemort, who's confidence had flourished at Harry's capture; Dumbledore was struggling to keep up with the barrage of dark spells, his calm demeanour crumbling as Voldemort's spells became increasingly dark and dangerous.

Remus had been caught up in a duel with Bellatrix's husband, who seemed intent on getting to Sirius's knocked out form and finishing what Bellatrix had started before Harry had intervened.

Neville was the only one currently not fighting for his life.

"Let… Let Harry go now!"

Harry began to struggle again, hoping to distract the Death Eater from Neville; there was no way Harry was going to let Neville get hurt because of him.

"Crucio," a muffled voice drawled, almost lazily, as if casting an unforgivable was part of his daily routine.

Instantly, the sensation of white hot knives tearing through his skin began, though not as painful as the cruciatus curse cast on him in the graveyard a year ago, it was still enough to make Harry's back arch against his masked captor, making the ropes dig tighter and tighter into his skin. Harry bit his lip in order not to cry out in pain; not only would it encourage the Death Eater, but there was no way Harry was going to put Neville through a repeat of what had happened to his parents.

"Stop it!" Neville seemed near hysterical. "Just stop it!"

The pain increased.

Tears were leaking out from behind Harry's tightly closed eyes. A few seconds later the metallic taste of blood filled Harry's mouth as his teeth pierced his lip; he'd bitten down on it to hold back the screams.

"For Merlin's sake, STOP!" Anything that followed Harry couldn't hear due to the pained scream that he had finally let out from his mouth. Not one inch of his skin was left free from the knives fiercely slashing his body. His lungs were made of iron; he couldn't breathe. Instead of blood, molten iron was being pumped through his veins. The only sound that could be heard over Harry's scream was Voldemort's high-pitched laugh.

Harry didn't know what happened next, but he knew Neville had finally used his wand to take action, despite the chances of hurting Harry.

With a jerk, Harry found himself released from both the agony and the Death Eater's strong grip. Harry winced as his head hit the ground head first, casing his glasses to smash and fall from his face. Neville must have disarmed his captor.

Looking up, Harry found himself half way between the Death Eater, and Neville; obviously using Hermione's wand had had a detrimental effect on Neville's already below average spell casting ability.

Harry flung himself towards Neville, desperately trying to escape the Death Eater. He knew that even if he got to Neville the chances of him making it out safely were very low, unless the Order won the battle and were able to get to him.

Harry was barely a metre from Neville when he saw a fiery whip reach out towards him, obviously the Death Eater didn't intend for him to escape easily. Harry cried out in pain as the whip wound itself around his ankle, burning it. Just as Harry felt his body being dragged towards the Death Eater, Neville flung himself forwards, or tripped, Harry couldn't tell. And grabbed a hold of Harry's shoulder.

Harry struggled weakly as both Neville and Harry were drawn towards the Death eater, he could see black gathering at the edges of his vision. He could feel Neville clawing at the ground, trying to stop the inevitable.

There was a blinding flash of light, and several gasps. Both Harry and Neville looked up to see the Dumbledore had trapped Voldemort in a golden dome of light. However, before the smile had even begun to form, Voldemort was free, but the damage had been done, several Order members were free of the fight and were now rushing towards Neville and Harry.

A hand clasped around his neck, Neville swore; the Death eater had used the distraction to get closer to the teenage boys. As Harry struggled, as much as he could so near to unconsciousness. Sharp fingernails dug into the skin around his neck, stinging painfully each time Harry took a shallow and erratic breath.

There was another ground shaking bang as a scream of words that Harry's confused mind was unable to make sense of. Harry could barely make out Remus as he emerged from the haze of dust that the volley of spells had made. With a surge of fear, Harry felt the Death eater shift his footing, as if he were about to turn and run… or apparate!

"_Kill the spare."_

Harry stiffened. Neville was still holding onto his shoulder, franticly trying to get Harry from the grip of the Death Eater. If the Death Eater apparated with him, Neville would be dragged along! He wasn't going to let that happen again. He roughly kicked away Neville as the Death Eater started to turn.

Looking up, he saw Remus's outstretched hand only inches away; they shared a brief fearful glance, before Harry was submerged into the sensation of being dragged through a tight rubber tube…

Harry moaned as he was thrown to the wooden floor. Slowly struggling to his knees, Harry started at the sight of hauntingly familiar eyes inches from his, before the red light hit him, and Harry was finally dragged into darkness.

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Well, what did you think? I've already written up to the end of chapter five, but that doesn't mean I can't improve it! I love constructive criticism!

A chocolate frog for whoever can tell me who our mysterious Death Eater is!

Updates will come whenever I feel like it really, hopefully every two weeks or so to give me a chance to write (I'm the world's slowest updater) and this year is going to be very busy due to my exams; 11 subjects, makes me wish I had a time turner.

Next update:

_**Voldemort was laughing madly at the information one of his servants had given him.**_

"_**Take me to him."**_


	2. Reactions

Disclaimer: Unless I have magically come to own Harry Potter and have somehow morphed into J K Rowling overnight, it is safe to assume the disclaimer from chapter one still applies …

Just so you know, Dumbledore is a pain in the bum to write. It's like a primary school kid trying to immitate Steven Hawkings or something ...

Thanks for all the reviews _-feels special-_ And I know many of you have asked for slash... well, there won't be any in this story because there won't be the chance for it (I've got all 8 chaters planned and 5 written), but I am considering writing the sequal, in which I am likely to include a slash pairing or two (yup, fellow slash addict here).

Sorry it's taken so long in getting it up, alerts aren't working (very annoying, going through the 50 in my alerts list by hand) and I've had exams.

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_**Reactions**_

_Sirius - Sunday, 7:27am_

Sirius blearily opened his eyes. Where in Merlin's name was he? All he could see was blinding white light! Squinting his eyes, he searched through his recent memories, trying to recollect where exactly he'd been before he got here… And what he was doing…

He could remember leaving Grimmauld Place… As to why he had no idea. He remembered tending to Buckbeak… What had he been planning to do after that…? Well, like everyday since Christmas he'd been planning on calling Harry on the mirror, checking whether Harry had-

HARRY!

Merlin's beard! Dumbledore had come to the Headquarters! The department of Mysteries! Duelling Bellatrix!

"Merlin, 'm I dead or somethin'?" Sirius croaked in slight alarm. Duelling Bellatrix Lestrange one moment and blinding white light the next was not the best of circumstances.

"I should bloody well hope not!"

"Moony?" Sirius squinted towards the direction of the voice, but was still blinded by the light of what he now assumed to be the hospital wing.

"Yes, it's me," sighed Remus's voice. Sirius frowned at the stressed and worried tone of his voice. Sirius felt a sense of foreboding creep into his hazy mind. Remus was always calm and collected, Sirius could count how many times he'd let a negative emotion creep into his voice on one hand. Something terrible had obviously happened. "Sirius, do you remember what happened… What happened on Friday morning?"

Sirius sat bolt upright, planning on demanding to know just what was wrong. However, before he could say a word, a head splitting pain had hit him.

Sirius let out a string of curse that would have caused Molly Weasley to strangle him (if he was lucky) before Remus had forced him back into bed and poured a vial of sky blue potion down his throat.

"For Merlin's sake, Sirius!" Remus nearly shouted as Sirius began to choke on his potion. "The pain reliever's not going to be much good to any of us if you choke to death!"

Sirius took a few minutes to stop spluttering, before he frowned and opened his mouth.

"You remember duelling with Lestrange?" Sirius nodded, closing his mouth as his question was answered. "Well, you got hit in the chest with a curse, most likely a dark banishing spell or something similar, Dumbledore probably knows but he's been too busy to tell us," Remus ignored Sirius's frown. "What on Earth were you thinking, starting a duel in front of that damned veil? Consider yourself lucky that you only got a concussion and a nasty bruise! You're lucky you didn't fall through the thing!" Remus ran his hands through his greying hair. "Of all the stupidest things to do, duelling in front of the barrier between worlds, the instrument used to kill criminals before the legislation in 1824 was drafted, with Bellatrix Lestrange, who was probably one of Voldemort's most dangerous Death Eaters, really takes the biscuit!"

Both Remus and Sirius shuddered. One of their Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers had spent a week of their seventh year talking about the Department of Mysteries. Looking back, Sirius could see altogether too many similarities between him and Mad-Eye Moody.

"As soon as I'm out of this damned bed," Remus gave a brief smile, wondering how exactly Sirius was going to escape Pomfrey's wraith, before the serious, worried expression returned, "I'm going to go straight to Voldemort's hidey-hole and kill that Lestrange cow!"

"No you're not."

"Moony, there's a time to be responsible, and there's a time, like now, to go on a murderous rampage!"

"No, I mean you can't kill her because she's already dead."

There was a long silence, in which Sirius was trying to digest the fact that his hated cousin was finally dead.

Just as Sirius was about to speak, Madam Pomfrey bustled in, staring at Sirius as if he was about to whip out his wand and blow up the hospital wing. Even though Dumbledore had informed her of the Order, which she had joined immediately, and Sirius's innocence, she was still getting used to the idea that the mad, dangerous escaped convict who blew up a street full of people was in fact innocent and Peter Pettigrew was the real villain.

"How?"

Remus bit his lip, choosing his words carefully. He knew Sirius was going to be angry, very angry. The question was how did he word it so that Sirius wouldn't be responsible for half the Order being in the Hospital Wing…

"Someone saw you… get knocked out. When Bellatrix turned her wand on you and started to say Avada Kedavra… They rushed forwards and stunned her."

"Stunned?" Sirius frowned. "A stunning spell couldn't have killed someone like Bellatrix Lestrange… Hell, a stunning spell couldn't kill anything!"

Remus rolled his eyes at Sirius's interruption. "He was highly emotional, exaggerating the force of the spell."

"Like when Snivellius was blasted backwards by Harry, Ron and Hermione two years ago?" Remus nodded and both Marauders shared a slight grin.

"So Lestrange got blasted backwards," Remus continued, "and, like you, hit her head on the dais. It wasn't exactly pretty. In fact, it was-"

"Who?" Remus sighed. Sirius's mind was whirling with emotions. He was happy that his cousin was dead, but if his suspicions on who had killed her were right… Sirius shook his head as Remus started to answer. "It was Harry, wasn't it?" Sirius didn't even need to see Remus's nod to know he was right.

Sirius pulls his hands through his tangled hair, a habit he had caught from Remus. As if Harry hadn't got enough to be getting on with. Sirius had been repeatedly kicking himself throughout the month after Christmas, he'd been a pretty terrible role model for Harry; and that had been all too apparent when Harry didn't use the mirror he'd given him. Obviously Harry didn't trust him, and Merlin knows, he needs a competent adult to trust (Sirius ignored the fact that about ninety percent of the Order was probably more competent than him).

"Where is he then?" Sirius knew he couldn't do much from his hospital bed, even if he was feeling fine after Poppy's potions. "Is he okay, physically?"

Remus didn't answer. So Harry wasn't okay… Sirius sat up, his brow deeply furrowed.

"What happened, Remus? Where is he?" Sirius found his voice getting progressively louder, not that he cared. "What happened to him?"

"Calm down, Sirius," Remus refused to meet Sirius's eye. "After Harry killed Lestrange, we were all… well, flabbergasted! I mean, it's not everyday a fifteen year old has the power to kill someone, let alone Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Harry sank to his knees, in shock, like anyone would in that situation… Then a Death Eater grabbed him." Sirius felt the blood drain out of his face. "We… They took him…" Sirius could feel cold fury grow in his gut. All year Dumbledore had been harping on about protecting Harry, and what good had it done? Harry could be dead now! It was almost certain he was being tortured in some way… Merlin, he was only fifteen; the biggest problem in his life should have been about how to ask that girl to Hogsmeade, not wondering when the psychopath who murdered your parents is going to come after you!

Sirius also felt a cold wave of guilt sweeping over him. He should have been getting Harry out of there, not duelling Bellatrix Lestrange. He could remember those green eyes shinning with fear for him.

"Stop it, Sirius." Sirius looked up sharply, he'd almost forgotten Remus was there. "We all feel guilty. It wasn't one person's fault. I left Harry to join in the fight, meaning Neville was the only one out there to try and get Harry free. Dumbledore didn't make the antiapparation wards around he place strong enough to stop Voldemort from breaking them down." Sirius tuned out Remus's voice as he tried to free Sirius from guilt and explain the events of early Friday morning to him.

Sirius buried his head in his hands; according to the calendar by his bedside it was Sunday.

Harry had been with the Death Eaters for at least two days. He could be dead, or tortured to insanity or worse.

Sirius looked up from his hands to see Remus staring at the wall blankly, worry etched across his face.

Sirius got up from his bed, unnoticed by Remus, wincing at the pounding in his head. He was half way across the infirmary before Remus noticed him.

"Where are you going?"

"To find some answers," was Sirius's reply before he continued out of the Hospital Wing, thankful that everyone in the room, and most likely the majority of the castle except from himself and Remus was still asleep.

"What, but I already told you…"

Sirius didn't reply, he just walked in stony silence through the empty corridors, the sunny day not reflecting Sirius's stormy mood.

"Canary creams." Sirius scowled as Remus said the inappropriate password.

Ignoring Remus's looks Sirius waited for the door to open. If looks could kill the door would have been nothing more than a pile of charcoal at this point.

Sirius didn't recall the door opening, all he knew was that one moment he was tapping his foot impatiently, the next he had grabbed Dumbledore by his shoulders and was shouting like the madman half the world assumed him to be.

"Where the hell is my Godson?" Instead of calming him, the composed blue eyes infuriated him. "How could you let this happen?" He could feel Remus pulling him away from the Headmaster. "Why haven't you rescued him yet? It's been two days! What-"

"Calm yourself, Sirius." Sirius blinked, surprised at the stressed tone of Dumbledore's voice. "We are doing all we can." Sirius looked at his feet (which were still in white Hospital Wing slippers), ashamed. A wizened hand clasped his shoulder. "Do not be ashamed Sirius, I can assure you Remus had a similar, yet not quite as loud, reaction." Now it was Remus's turn to blush under Sirius's surprised glance.

"We have an Order meeting at eight O'clock to discuss what is being done and our current options. Feel free to floo to Grimmauld Place from my fireplace."

Sirius nodded and moved towards the fireplace. In the next second he was gone, not seeing the look shared between Remus and Dumbledore.

"Kreacher has been a good house elf. He is serving his Mistress very well! Running away to nice Masters is very good of Kreacher! Mistress will be most pleased when she finds out!" Kreacher's incessant mutterings were what greeted Sirius to Grimmauld Place. "Oh yes, he is a good house elf! Nasty half blood brat is in big troubles! Oh yes! And soon the bratty half blood will be dead, and Mistress-"

Kreacher looked up at that point, his eyes narrowing with hatred and pain as he saw who was strangling him.

"Sirius!" Sirius reluctantly let go of Kreacher's neck and hissed at him not to move from that spot before turning to see Remus and Dumbledore emerging from the fireplace.

Sirius glared at the two. He wanted nothing more than to kill his house elf at that point.

"The meeting is in ten minutes, Sirius. We will find a suitable punishment for Kreacher, but now is not the time. We have much more pressing matters to deal with at the moment."

Sirius sighed and tried to push his anger away. It was more difficult this time. Kreacher's words had triggered images of Harry's dead lifeless body to flash through his mind, like Mrs. Weasley's boggart but getting steadily more dramatic and gruesome.

Sirius didn't realise he was shuddering until someone pushed him into a hard mahogany chair and placed his hands around a steaming cup of tea. Without opening his eyes he took a sip (ignoring the obvious taste of calming draught), mumbling his thanks into the mug.

Sirius looked up at the sound of multiple pops and nodded at the various members of the Weasley family (minus Ron and Ginny for obvious reasons) before returning to burying his face in the mug, ignoring all subsequent arrivals.

"Sirius," Sirius's head shot up. Looking around, Sirius noticed one or two absences, such as Tonks (Sirius seemed to remember something from Remus's earlier rambling about fault and him mentioning the fact that several Order members had ended up in St. Mungos). "If you don't mind." Dumbledore was looking pointedly at Kreacher, who was still in the same position he'd been in ten minutes ago.

"Kreacher," Sirius's voice quivered with anger, "go to your cupboard and stay there until I say you can come out." As Kreacher began to sulk away, Sirius added an afterthought. "Oh, and I forbid you from communicating with anyone who I do not directly give permission to talk with you." Sirius drained his mug and slammed it on the table as Kreacher stormed off to his cupboard muttering about the death of all Mudbloods and blood traitors whilst Dumbledore took his place at the head of the table.

"Now, I see no point in beating around the bush. Lord Voldemort," Sirius rolled his eyes at the shudders coming from around the table, "has come to have possession of

Harry. How it happened places guilt upon us all, but we shall have time to dwell on that later. What we must worry about at the moment is how to get Harry out of there-"

"How do you know he's still alive, Albus?" Sirius (amongst others) glared at Mad-Eye, not wanting to think about the other highly likely possibility.

"It is enough that I know," Dumbledore responded cryptically. "And he is still alive, that is certain. His current condition, however, is still a mystery to me."

There was a pregnant pause, the kind that swallows up all thought of conversation.

"So," Hagrid's voice was unusually soft and quiet, "wha' do we do? Now tha' Harry's…" He shook his bushy head and clumsily swept tears away, "I mean, wha' information do we 'ave? To rescue 'im?"

"My sources have confirmed that he's currently being kept in Voldemort's new headquarters. He realised Little Hangleton was no longer safe for him after he told Harry that his house lay next to the graveyard where Harry was taken last year." Sirius closed his eyes. Voldemort seemed to be slowly taking over Harry's life.

"How do you know this?" Kingsley spoke up. "I doubt he goes around advertising where he's keeping Harry Potter hostage."

Realisation dawned upon Sirius, "Snape. He's feeding you information, right?"

"Indeed, Sirius." Seeing several mutinous looks around the table, Dumbledore continued, "I know that many of you do not trust him, which is perfectly reasonable. But I do have reason to trust him," Sirius was still sceptical. Until Snape proved he was on their side there was no way Sirius was going to trust him. Sirius had trusted Snape to teach Harry Occlumency and look where that had ended up.

"I do have worries about how Harry will be used." Seeing several confused looks around the table; Dumbledore elaborated. "Voldemort could easily use Harry for blackmail or bribery. Free all prisoners in Azkaban for Harry's release, which obviously wouldn't happen, but we can't depend on Fudge not to release the prisoners, or comply to any of Voldemort's other demands just to show the public that he's fighting to get Harry freed.

"Luckily, I have managed to keep the Ministry in the dark about Harry's situation, but that is not likely to last for long. Voldemort thrives upon creating public disharmony and panic, which is exactly what would happen if news of Harry's capture leaked out, which it will."

Dumbledore sighed and rubbed his temples, looking uncharacteristically weak. "I must confess I am extremely anxious for Harry's safety at this point."

"But Harry's been in tight spots before, hasn't he?" One of the Weasley twins, Merlin knew which one, spoke up, after finally being admitted to the Order despite Mrs. Weasley's protests. "Every year at Hogwarts something like this has happened to him." The other twin nodded.

Dumbledore delved into his pocket before placing a sherbet lemon in his mouth and sucking it, choosing his words carefully.

"It may be true that Harry is used to tense situations, but he has always depended on quick thinking and a little luck to get out of them, using the first opportunity that is presented to him.

"However, in these particular circumstances, Harry has been under threat for an extensive period of time; meaning that the chances of escape due to Voldemort or his Death Eaters making a mistake in the heat of the moment has dramatically decreased. That and the fact that the shock of the situation will have worn off by now, and Harry is likely to dwell on the position he is in. It is not unusual for Harry to dwell on a particular event for a period of time afterwards, I believe most of you noticed Harry's foul mood just after a year ago," there were several nods around the table to those who spent more time than most in Grimmauld Place or Hogwarts.

Sirius's mood had darkened even more. "So, you think Harry's going to dwell on the fact that he's… you know… and become disheartened?"

Dumbledore nodded. "It is a possibility."

"If I know Harry he'd not give up too easily; when I was working on the Patronus charm he refused to stop until I made him, despite the fact he was obviously exhausted."

"You have a fair point, Remus."

"It all depends on the situation," Bill spoke for the first time that evening, "which we know nothing about, so it's all speculation at the moment."

"Whatever Harry's condition, we won't know until Severus corresponds with us."

There was another tense silence, each of them digesting the information. Sirius lost track of time as the number of situations Harry might be in flashed through his mind once again. He wished he could have some more of that tea laced with calming potion.

"What are we going to tell the children?"

"The truth, Molly." Sirius couldn't help but answer her, he knew it wasn't the best idea, given that they didn't see eye to eye when it came to Harry.

"But-"

"They are not children, Molly. They are young adults with the right to know what has happened to their friend."

Mrs. Weasley was just about to interrupt again when a coal black owl made a dramatic entrance through the ajar window.

Without saying a word, Dumbledore swept towards the owl and started to read the letter. Sirius could see a gleam in his eye, which disappeared as he continued reading to be replaced by a deep frown, and thunderous eyes.

Sitting down at the table Dumbledore ignored all the curious looks and stared off into space, occasionally biting his lip in thought.

After ten minutes Mad-Eye broke the silence.

"Well?" he prompted.

Dumbledore started and looked up, appearing to be shocked that he was in a room full of people.

"Oh, I'm terrible sorry. Once you're my age you do tend-"

"Never mind, Albus." McGonagall's voice lacked the crisp tone that it usually held, as if she's been crying recently, which she probably had.

"Well, the good news is that Severus was chosen as the secret keeper for Voldemort." Sirius's face hardened. It was time the Dark Lord learnt that it wasn't beyond Death Eaters to betray him.

"Wouldn't that reveal his position as a spy, though?" Sirius frowned, something felt wrong here. Maybe he was just wary of the secret keeper charm.

Dumbledore nodded. "Severus did know that his time being a spy in Voldemort's ranks was coming to a close. It is simply getting too dangerous. There are times that Severus has ended up narrowly escaping death by improvising some excuse for why we turned up to defend where he and his inner circle had planned to attack.

"So, Voldemort doesn't trust Snape, so he gives Snape the job of secret keeper. How does this make sense?"

"Sirius has a point Albus… It does seem a bit odd."

"Actually Charlie, it makes perfect sense."

"Remus?"

"Think about it, Voldemort most likely suspects all of his Death Eaters. What better test of his new top Death Eater than to assign him the job of secret keeper."

"So when we burst in there, Voldemort's going to be expecting us! Fantastic!" Sirius spat; at the moment he couldn't care less about one git's loyalty. They had a way in, why weren't they trying to find Harry? Sirius tried to ignore the fact Snape handing them the location was testament to his loyalty to the Order.

"Now we've got that matter cleared up," Dumbledore boomed, leaving no room for the discussion to continue, "we have another matter than must be dealt with, along with developing a plan of attack on Voldemort in order to rescue Harry. Unfortunately, it seems that someone has passed on information to Voldemort."

"Who?" Sirius asked before the mutterings and accusations began.

"Unfortunately Severus does not know how Voldemort acquired this information. We do know that it was most likely a staff member who had access either my or Professor Snape's office or someone who has known Harry for a long period of time and who Harry trusts."

"What information?" Sirius probed, did Dumbledore have a genuine lack of information or was he being deliberately evasive?

"Voldemort now knows the full details about what happened or rather, what Harry and I discussed after the incidents with the Philosopher's Stone," Dumbledore offered a sympathetic glance with the Weasleys in the room, "the Chamber of Secrets and the Triwizard Tournament."

Sirius rose to his feet, his anger returned and multiplied by massive amounts.

"HOW IN MERLIN'S NAME DID YOU LET THIS HAPPEN?" He bellowed.

"Let what happen?" Kingsley asked calmly, ignoring Sirius's rage. "Isn't Voldemort already in possession of all the facts from those encounters? He was there in person. What's the problem?"

"THE PROBLEM? THE PROBLEM IS NOW SODDING VOLDEMORT KNOWS THAT HE AND HARRY HAVE BROTHER WANDS, HE KNOWS THAT HARRY'S A PARSELTONGUE, HE KNOWS HARRY WOULD GO TO EXTREME LENGTHS TO SAVE HIS BEST FRIEND'S LITTLE SISTER, HE KNOWS HARRY!" Sirius's voice broke. "He knows… He knows Harry's strengths so he can counter them, he knows Harry's weaknesses so he can exploit them." Sirius swore loudly, but Mrs. Weasley was crying too hard to admonish him.

"How?" Sirius's livid eyes flashed towards Dumbledore. "How could you let this happen?"

When Dumbledore spoke his voice was low and remorseful. "I placed my memories of Harry in the Pensieve. I thought they would be useful in figuring out Voldemort's next move. It was; looking into Voldemort's encounters with Harry gave me a more realistic picture of Voldemort's eventual goal.

"This I didn't expect. If anything I was expecting Voldemort to target me first, or Sirius." Sirius knew from the furtive glance Dumbledore had shot them that the Weasleys were also added to the list of targets, but Sirius could see why they didn't say this out loud. The twins looked more serious than Sirius could remember seeing before, even when Arthur was in St. Mungos. Bill and Charlie were chalk white, making their freckles stand out and Mrs. Weasley was still crying on Mr. Weasley's shoulder. "Or some adult figure whom Harry trusted.

"But I digress. I always kept the Pensieve in my office, in a cupboard I always kept locked since Harry had shown me in his fourth year that the more inquisitive students wouldn't think twice about taking a look if no one happened to be in the room at the time. Unless I leant it to Severus, who assured me he kept it in his office at all times.

"Severus, ever paranoid about his potions ingredients going missing, had a charm on his door that prevented everyone but staff from entering his office when he wasn't residing there. Leading to the conclusion that only staff could have had access to the Pensieve and those memories."

Sirius and Remus shared a glance, knowing otherwise, but they weren't going to betray Harry's confidence in that matter.

"So one of the Hogwarts Professors in most likely working for Voldemort or has been passing information on to someone who does."

Sirius swore again. Dumbledore politely ignored him, much to Sirius's irritation.

"Unfortunately, Remus, I fear you are right. There are always other possibilities of course, but the likelihood of them being responsible for the situation is slim. I would also like to say that I trust all of my staff unconditionally," Dumbledore gave a faint smile, which did not reach his eyes, which had not regained their sparkle. "Except for the large majority of Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers."

"So, what are we going to do about this?"

"Kingsley, if it's okay by you, I'd like to give you the task of testing all of my staff under veritaserum, not that I suspect them of any connection to Voldemort, but we must follow procedure in this-"

"No, I meant what are we going to do about the information Voldemort has about Harry and not to forget the fact that Harry is trapped with a murderous Dark Lord with a grudge against him!" Sirius fought to keep his voice under control but couldn't help but let the sarcasm in.

"Well, that will have to take a large amount of planning to ensure Harry's safety."

Pushing the images of a beaten Harry lying in some dark corner to the back of his mind, Sirius and the rest of the Order began to plan Harry's rescue, unbeknownst to the fact that around three hundred miles north Voldemort was laughing madly at the information one of his servants had given him.

"Take me to him."

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Mwahahahahahaahahaha! You weren't expecting a POV change were you? I wanted it to be a bit different from my other (given up) fic and have a bit mroe substance and look at it from the side of those who love our tortured hero.

Next update:

_**Before Harry had a chance to react, the Death Eater he recognised as the one who had captured him in the Ministry swept up to him and conjured another manacle around his other wrist to restrain him.**_

**_Harry kicked him anyway, cold fury taking over his actions. The Death Eater removed his mask to reveal what was obviously a broken nose. Although Harry knew exactly who this git was, the sight of his face still shocked Harry._**


	3. Reality

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter … pity …

Hey guys. A big thankyou for all the comments. Makes me smile.

Righty, and the following people get a chocoalte frog for guessing who our little Death Eater is... Werewolf777 and Saigo (no badgers, I happen to like him)

Akuma-river and shadowsfriend kinda nearly hit it, so they can have half a frog each.

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**Reality**

_Harry – Sunday, midmorning_

Harry shivered.

It had nothing to do with the fact his cell, or whatever you wanted to refer to it as, was plain concrete with no furnishings whatsoever. It also had nothing to do with the fact that the only source of light in the room was a small letterbox sized hole at the top of the wall. Nor was his shivering due to the fact that his robes had been torn to shreds, barely clinging on to him.

This shudder was unusual, or at least it was for someone like Harry: it was fear.

Harry didn't think he'd ever felt this scared in his whole life. The events of last year came close but being tied to that gravestone had nowhere near the level of helplessness and therefore fear of being in this cold cell, with no apparent way of escape.

He'd first woken up in the early hours of Friday morning, judging by the light from the excuse of a window. Groaning at the ache in his bones, Harry took in every detail of the room, trying to see if there was any way of escape.

The first thing Harry noticed was a heavy manacle on his right wrist, preventing him from doing more than sitting up or lying down. The chain was embedded deep into the wall, just from looking at it Harry knew that unless he acquired a wand he wouldn't be able to free himself that way (not that he'd get too far, the manacle itself was insanely heavy). Squinting around the room in the crepuscular light Harry noticed that all of the walls were made of concrete.

Harry was forced to squint to see the door in detail owing to the fact that he had no glasses. The door was wooden, but looked firm and was sure to be locked; Death Eaters weren't quite that stupid.

But it was when he saw the thick iron bars on the window than not even a small child could squeeze through that Harry began to panic. Harry had felt the need to be doing something, anything to escape from Voldemort's clutches, to get out of this room.

Harry felt a strange sense of claustrophobia, something he had not expected having grown up in a cupboard under the stairs. In fact, the room Harry was trapped in was far bigger than his cupboard.

Instead of fading, the feeling of the walls closing in on him had only increased during the past forty-eight hours (or what he supposed by the light in his cell to be two days; Harry assumed he'd only been unconscious for a couple of hours and not a whole day).

Another surprise was the increase in anxiety as he had been left completely alone for two days; he would have thought that the lack of anything would be a relief.

But it wasn't. Harry knew that it was more than likely a tactic from Voldemort. But it was working.

Harry drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, ignoring the sharp pain in his stomach. After he'd let go of the notion of escape from his cell Harry had been shocked to find himself covered in cuts and bruises. It was obvious that some Death Eaters had taken their frustrations out on him. There was a long cut down his back, luckily it wasn't too deep, Harry had a suspicion that that particular cut was from when Harry had been released from the ropes that had prevented his escape in the Department of Mysteries. It was obvious from the rips in his robes that they'd dragged him along the floor whilst transporting him here. His stomach was suffering the most though; there was a purple foot shaped bruise there, luckily Harry's ribs hadn't been hurt, which he was thankful for.

Harry closed his eyes and rested his head on his knees, trying to calm himself down. Yes, Voldemort could burst through the door any second and Avada Kedavra him, but he was fine at that precise moment, if a little bruised, hungry and desperately thirsty.

And like the Order, Harry had worked out that Voldemort wouldn't kill him straight out; he'd be used. Harry shuddered at what that could mean; he knew that there was no way Voldemort would uphold his end of the bargain and let him go free. But at least it gave Harry more time for a possible escape, if he was ever taken out of this cell.

Harry started as he heard a loud roll of thunder. It had been raining heavily for most of the time that Harry had been in captivity. Scolding himself for scaring so easily, Harry returned to his thoughts.

When he'd first woken Harry had thought that he'd deserved to be here. After all, he was a murderer, right? She was a complete bitch and a strong supporter of Voldemort, but she was still human … enough.

But as Harry had dwelt on that moment that Bellatrix's head slammed into the stone he came to realise that yes, it was his fault, but this was a war, people were going to be killed. Harry still felt terrible about it, and the guilt was still strong, but it wasn't all-consuming any more. Once or twice the guilt had returned, but conjuring the image of Bellatrix towering over Sirius, ready to end his life vanished that.

Instead Harry's thoughts had drifted away to the prophecy. It was what Voldemort had wanted from the Department of Mysteries. Meaning it probably held the key to Voldemort being defeated. Or becoming undefeatable…

A cold icy wave came over him. It was obvious that he was involved; his name had been on it.

Harry frowned as a realisation came into place. Could it be the reason Voldemort had wanted to kill him in the first place? If Voldemort had wanted to kill him that is. He could easily have been after one or both of his parents, and as Hagrid had said years ago, Voldemort just liked killing people or wanted to complete the job.

Whatever the reason he wasn't likely to find out now, unless Voldemort decided to do a TV-villain type thing and tell Harry all his plans before Harry made a dramatic escape. Harry snorted, like that was ever going to happen, that was the thing of stories. Like the ones where the hero always wins and lives happily ever after.

Harry's wandering thoughts had just turned to his friends and the Order, wondering how everyone was doing and wondering if Ron, Hermione or Sirius had woken up yet when Harry yelped in pain. His scar had suddenly caught alight with pain.

Voldemort was coming.

Harry unfurled himself from his position and moved to his knees. Being defiant probably wouldn't do any good, but neither would curling up and hiding.

Harry waited for five minutes, the pain in his scar getting progressively more aggressive until there was a loud thud which Harry presumed to be a bolt being undone and the door was flung open; Harry flinched even though he had known it was about to happen.

Before Harry had a chance to react the Death Eater he recognised as the one who had captured him in the Ministry swept up to him and conjured another manacle around his other wrist to restrain him.

Harry kicked him, cold fury taking over his actions. The Death Eater removed his mask to reveal what was obviously a broken nose. Although Harry knew exactly who this git was, the sight of his face still shocked Harry.

Severus Snape slapped Harry across the face, his obsidian eyes glittering dangerously.

Blinking away the pain, Harry summoned the most venomous glare he could manage and shot it at Snape.

Snape's betrayal hadn't really sunk in yet. He had avoided it, not wanting to think about the consequences of Snape giving away all the information on Harry, his friends and everything he had seen whilst teaching him Occlumency (which Harry had to assume he hadn't done properly, Ron had been right, he was probably opening his mind even more).

Voldemort laughed softly sending shivers down Harry's spine. He glanced over the room, as if to check that even Harry couldn't escape before looking Harry up and down. Harry just glared at him, desperately trying to conceal the chilling fear that was being pumped through his body. Harry could see a smile flicker onto his face as he saw the tattered robes, red, irritated skin under the first manacle and the fresh red mark rising on Harry's pale cheek.

"Well, Harry, I won't trouble you with introductions; it is obvious to me that you are already well acquainted with everyone here to witness the proceedings."

Harry replied in a fashion that would have made Mrs. Weasley wash his mouth out with soap. Voldemort merely smiled.

"Language, Harry."

"Whatever, Tom." Harry wished he hadn't spoken; provoking Dark Lords who want to kill you wasn't exactly the most intelligent thing to so.

And a moment later, Voldemort proved it. "Never call me by that name! CRUCIO!" Harry writhed, fighting not to scream. But luckily it was over quickly: a small warning.

"I see that Severus is right in the fact that you are an arrogant fool, Harry." Voldemort's eyes were still blazing with anger, Harry resisted the urge to look away and instead met his stare, though Harry was sure Voldemort could sense the trepidation behind it.

There was another roll of thunder. Rain started to fall through the window, splattering over Harry. Snape smirked but Harry didn't move from his stony position glaring defiantly back up at Voldemort.

Voldemort took a step closer; Harry subtly pressed his back further into the wall behind him. With each step the pain in his scar doubled. By the time Voldemort was a foot away from him, he was blinking back tears of agony.

"Isn't it amazing, Harry," Voldemort was a foot away from him now, towering over him, his eyes flashing with dominance, "how a simple touch," Voldemort's finger was an inch away from his scar and Harry's head was pressed hard into the cold concrete, "can have the power of a cruciatus curse." His finger couldn't get any closer to Harry's forehead without touching it.

Voldemort's hand withdrew and Harry sighed in relief and sank down the wall.

Then, suddenly, he was screaming. Voldemort's hand was pressed against his forehead, his sharp fingernails digging into Harry's scalp. A white-hot iron was pressed against Harry's forehead, splitting his head open, tearing at his scalp.

Harry didn't know how long it lasted. The burning agony with Voldemort just standing there calmly tightening his grip.

Harry wasn't even aware of the fact that he was screaming. Not until the pain stopped and he continued to scream with just the memory of the pain. As soon as Harry realised this, he stopped, and opened his eyes to find Voldemort once again by the doorway, laughing cruelly. Snape had vanished.

"Enjoying yourself, Harry?"

"Unsurprisingly, you're not the best of hosts, Tom," Harry spat back.

Voldemort's eyes flashed dangerously and instantly the chains shortened and the manacles tightened, given Harry even less freedom. "Harry, you really need to learn obedience to your superiors."

"I'll bear that," Harry coughed, his voice had become rough and scratchy from thirst and screaming, "in mind when I get out of here, where the civilized people are."

Once again, the manacles tightened round his wrists, they were now very painful, and they became bound to the wall; Harry's arms were spread eagled, now unable to move at all.

Voldemort's voice was dangerously soft and low, laced with threat. "If you think there is any escape from here, Potter, then the agony has addled your mind already." His wand drifted from place to place upon Harry's body, eerily echoing the actions of Umbridge, which seemed like a lifetime ago. "Maybe your friends in the Order, and I know everything about the Order thanks to Severus, have told you about just how many people went missing, how many people disappeared without a trace."

Harry's mind flipped back to the previous summer holidays, where he had seen the photograph with his parents in, what was it Moody had said? 'Caradoc Dearborn, vanished six months after this, we never found his body'.

Voldemort smiled at Harry's reaction. "And you will join them, Harry," Voldemort's voice was barely above a whisper, "your body will never be found. But I have something special planned for your death." Harry's stomach tightened uncomfortably.

Voldemort's wand settled on Harry's chest, most likely because with his arms drawn against the wall there was no chance of Harry dodging.

"Oh yes, Harry, I have a very interesting plan for your death. I'm not satisfied in just killing you… I want to obliterate your soul, I want to devastate your spirit. I want to destroy you, I want you to suffer."

Harry felt as if a dementor had just glided into the room. Harry had never felt dread as intense as this in his life. All he wanted to do was curl up and hide. But there were no gravestones to hide behind this time. Voldemort wasn't going to underestimate him again; he was more than likely to overestimate Harry, which meant that there was no way out. Voldemort's prison was inescapable. If Caradoc Dearborn and the many other more skilled wizards hadn't escaped, then there was little chance for him. Maybe he should just accept it, stop fighting the pain, stop fighting…

Harry mentally shook his head. Thinking like that would make it even easier for Voldemort to torment him. And he wasn't going to let that happen. If he was going to die then he was going to annoy the hell out of Voldemort before he did so.

Putting on a confidence that he wished he possessed, Harry said, "And I want you to drop dead, you slimy-." He would have said more, but he suddenly found himself unable to breathe; he was gasping and coughing, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to take a breath. His legs, which were thrashing around as if he were underwater, felt like lead, darkness was hovering over his consciousness after what seemed like a lifetime of the overbearing pain.

"You are not unintelligent, Potter." The huge pressure on his chest was released; almost crying out in relief, Harry started gulping huge breaths of air. Ignoring Harry's near hyperventilation, Voldemort continued, "Surely you will have worked out that being disrespectful towards me earns you punishment." Voldemort's wand was again targeting different areas of his body, this time settling at his forehead.

Harry glared at him, still breathing heavily.

"Now, Harry." Voldemort's eyes gleamed, "while we are on the subject of punishment, there is a little matter I must settle with you." Harry's stomach dropped, he could see where this was going. "You murdered one of my best servants." Harry swallowed hard, pushing away the guilt. "Therefore it is fitting that I murder someone you are close to." Harry could hear his heart thundering in his chest. If Ron or Hermione were killed… Harry couldn't deal with that. "Legilimense!"

In the split second before Voldemort's spell took effect Harry frowned in confusion, it was a well-known fact that Ron and Hermione were his best friends; Snape would have told Voldemort that… But Harry didn't have time to think anymore before he felt Voldemort's presence barging into his mind. Harry could hear himself scream and his scar burnt and his head started to feel as if it were about to implode; there seemed to be an insane amount of pressure under it. It made Snape's presence seem like nothing but the touch of a feather.

Then the images started pouring through his mind, Harry had barely caught sight of one image before the next had come; they were all memories from the Dursleys… He was being shoved in the cupboard after setting Dudley's Easter eggs on fire when he was five… His uncle grabbing his arm so tightly that he couldn't feel his fingers when he was being taken in on his first day of school… Forcing him to clean up after Vernon, Petunia and Dudley's Christmas lunch when he was seven…

There was nothing that could stop it, he was caught in the torrent of memories, knowing Voldemort had access to every experience of his life, every good and bad emotion… Harry tried to stop the memories but it was like catching smoke with your hands: impossible.

Then it changed; he was at Hogwarts… Rapid memories of all the teachers there… McGonagall docking him fifty points after being caught coming down from the astronomy tower… Trelawney predicting his death… Flitwick assigning him extra work on the summoning spell… Every single teacher excluding Quirrel and Moody were pulled through his head… Hadn't Voldemort finished yet? No…

Now his holidays started, Harry couldn't keep up anymore, it was too rapid, to fast, he was drowning…

Then it stopped.

Harry slumped as far as it was possible in his restraints; groaning at the throbbing of his scar, still enflamed from Voldemort's intrusion and grinding his teeth against the thumping in his skull.

"Wormtail," Harry opened his eyes to see Wormtail's blurry outline in the door. "Take this message to Malfoy, and then help track our victims down, which shouldn't be too difficult for you, given the circumstances."

Wormtail nodded, seemingly too scared to speak. His watery eyes kept darting from Harry, who glowered at him, to the hem of Voldemort's robes and back to Harry again.

"I want you to order the immediate capture, alive… if possible… of Molly Weasley and Sirius Black." Harry gasped, unable to help himself; it made sense now, Voldemort searching through all the adults in Harry's life… Merlin, what if they did get captured? It would all be his fault… He had no way to warn them!

"I thought that would hit a nerve, Harry." Wormtail had gone and Voldemort had turned his attention to Harry, pleased that his tactics were having such an effect. "What I have planned for those blood traitors is nearly as bad as what I have planned for you." Harry's eyes darted round the room again, escaping was ten times more important now… There was no way he was going to be responsible for even more deaths…

Voldemort stalked up to Harry, who winced at the pain in his scar with each step he took, and dug his fingernail into Harry's cheek. Harry didn't scream this time. His lip was becoming red and swollen from biting on it too hard. Whipping his hand away, Voldemort left a crescent shaped cut down Harry's cheek before sweeping to the door.

"I promise you Harry, both Sirius Black and Molly Weasley will die … painfully," Harry flinched at the burning, yet promising glint in Voldemort's eye. "I will be back later, Harry, but until then I leave you to get acquainted with my servants."

It was then that Harry saw the dark outline of a cloaked Death Eater, his white mask catching the first of the morning light and he drew his wand and advanced towards Harry.

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Until next time ...

_There was instant uproar, Dumbledore stood up so sharply his chair fell backwards, tumbling to the floor and knocking over a spindly table with a delicate silver instrument that looked like it was worth the Malfoy's fortune placed on it. Sirius didn't hear him thunder about manhandling his students. Nor did he head Luna, Neville or Ginny's gasps; Sirius's head was filled with his own deafening barks._

I know some of you will want to strangle me for various reasons, but so those 'Snape is good, you idiots, can't you see it, he's NOT EVIL!' people won't, I'll just explain that I am in fact one of those 'Snape is good, you idiots, can't you see it, he's NOT EVIL!' people, but alas, Snape being evil gives a nice evil little plot line, and has lots of potentials for any sequels that I might be plotting.

A note about updating: I'm not updating until I complete chapter 6. I've got half term coming up nad I'll try to write in that, but since Christmas my life has got really busy and with exams around the corner it's going to get busier.

Hope anyone from the UK had fun with the snow today!


	4. Realisations

Disclaimer: If I said that I was J K Rowling, would you believe me?

OK, no excuses. I've been a terrible updater. What can I say? I could blame it on the fact that my RL has reared its ugly head, but to be honest, I think that I've probably had plenty of chance to update, even though I still haven't finished chapter 6 (though exams are over and summer holidays approach! So hopefully boredom will reawaken my imagination.)

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**Realisations**

_Sirius – Wednesday, 2:45pm_

Sirius sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. He'd just been to yet another Order meeting, the fourth this week.

Stifling a yawn, Sirius waited for Dumbledore to return from his trip to the Ministry and a meeting with the new Minister, Scrimgeour, concerning Voldemort, as per usual.

After the mess in the Department of Mysteries Dumbledore has a lot of explaining to so, mainly trying to explain why Bellatrix's lifeless body was lying in the middle of the Death Chamber, why several Ministry employees were injured and why in Merlin's name five hundred prophecy orbs were in smithereens.

Dumbledore had told the truth. Or a slightly tainted version of it. He had stated that Bellatrix had been killed in the battle, but no specifying who had killed her; Sirius could imagine the uproar that would cause throughout the wizarding world. Dumbledore had also neglected to mention Harry's disappearance to anyone not in the Order. Luckily no one had asked where Harry was at that point, most assumed him to be at Hogwarts. However, Sirius was expecting to tell Scrimgeour about Harry at some point; during planning Harry's rescue there had always been the worry that there weren't enough members to combat the Death Eaters and Voldemort without losing several members and Harry. Sirius knew that as ex-head of the auror division Scrimgeour could defiantly pull the right strings to get the aurors on their side.

Sirius yawned again; he was insanely tired. He hadn't been able to get a bad night's sleep, let alone a good one. The farthest he'd got was lying down on his bed and staring at the ceiling, images of Harry's lifeless body streaming through his mind like a restless Boggart.

Sirius wearily looked towards the fireplace as Dumbledore stepped gracefully from the flames, his face sombre and looking more elderly than Sirius had ever seen it.

"Well?"

"I had to tell him about Harry." Dumbledore sighed and strode over to the window instead of taking his usual position at his desk. It was very nearly the end of term; most of the students were sitting by the lake, enjoying their freedom despite the peculiar chilly breeze.

"It's not certain if he'll help, but he does seem to be supportive."

"He's going to keep it from the press, right?" Sirius frowned at Dumbledore's second sigh. "What!" Sirius was furious; "so tomorrow we're going to find that the whole bloody wiz-"

"Calm yourself, Sirius." Sirius quietened, although he was still glaring angrily at Dumbledore. "He gave me his word to only inform anyone when Harry is safe and if he uses his power to aide us in his rescue."

Sirius closed his eyes, it was really the best they could do under the circumstances, but that didn't mean he was allowed to be happy about it.

"I have the feeling, Sirius, that today's meeting with the Minister wasn't the only thing you wished to speak about with me." Sirius scowled at Dumbledore's uncanny ability to read his mind at times like this. If he hadn't known Dumbledore better then he would have sworn Dumbledore was using his legilimensy on him. Sirius opened his eyes to see that Dumbledore had returned to his desk and has his fingers steeples, his eyes surveying Sirius over his half-moon glasses.

Sirius nodded. "I want to know what's going on," Sirius felt his frown deepen, "what's really going on with Harry and the full story about Snape?" Dumbledore's eyes widened.

"I beg your pardon, Sirius."

"Don't try to fool me, professor. I could see that you weren't giving us all the information you knew in the meeting. Perfectly understandable with the possibility of a spy; if you will remember I was in the same situation with my friends at one time. But this is my Godson we're talking about! I deserve-"

"Yes, you do," Dumbledore interrupted, unsteepling his fingers and staring at Sirius as if finally noticing that he was no longer eighteen years old. "Please forgive me, Sirius; I should have understood that you would need to know. I should have known that you needed to be informed."

Trying to keep exasperation out of his voice, Sirius said, "Remus knows you're hiding something. And Mad-Eye. Possibly Arthur and Molly as well.

"I shall bear that in mind, Sirius," Dumbledore paused to clean his glasses on his deep purple robes to Sirius's annoyance; he wanted to find out about Harry as soon as possible.

Just as Dumbledore opened his mouth to continue there was s timid knock at the door, followed by hurried muttering before a louder but just as hesitant knock. Sirius gave a low growl in frustration before a forced himself into his animagus form.

Sirius relaxed slightly as Ron, Ginny and Hermione entered the room, looking awfully nervous. However, Sirius didn't change back; a boy he vaguely recognised as Neville Longbottom and an eccentric looking girl who he assumed to be Luna Lovegood were both supporting Hermione, who's jaw was clenched, obviously still feeling pain in her chest.

"Good afternoon children, please, Hermione take a seat." Everyone stared at Dumbledore (including Sirius), slightly stunned that Dumbledore had chosen to use Hermione's first name; Sirius couldn't remember any student being called by their first name, Harry being the exception

As everyone helped Hermione to her seat, Ginny broke from the group and crouched down to stroke Sirius, giving him a short hug.

"You must be feeling terrible," she whispered. Sirius answered with a quiet whine before Ginny joined the rest of the group standing either side of Hermione's chair.

"Now, how may I help you?"

Sirius scowled as much as it is possible for a dog to scowl; it was obvious what the group wanted. The same thing as him.

"Professor," Hermione spoke first is what Sirius knew would be a well-practised speech. "Neville told us what happened to Harry; how he was taken in the Department of mysteries," Neville was staring at his shoes, obviously plagued with guilt, "and it's obvious that Harry's in serious trouble." Hermione's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "We want to know what's going on, whether you've heard from…" she drifted off, shooting glances at Neville and Luna, "your contact; if you have, what new is there? And what can we," he gave reproachful glance to her chest, "or they," she gestured to the others who were all healthy, excepting the still healing welts on Ron's arms, "can we do to help?"

Sirius growled at Dumbledore, warning him not to refuse. Not only would it be hypocritical with what he had said in the Order meeting but it was obvious that Harry and his friends not having all the information from the adults was a large factor in what had caused this mess. If Snape or Dumbledore had told Harry that Voldemort could send fake visions. If Harry had known of the damn prophecy's existence, even if he didn't know the content, then Harry would never have been lured to the Department of Mysteries and he would never have been…

Sirius shook his head, trying to clear his visions of Harry's body in the middle of a circle of Death Eaters, and sighed (cringing on the dog's equivalent of a sigh); he was playing the blame game again.

"I'm afraid that you are correct in your assumptions that Harry is still trapped with Voldemort," Neville and Ron winced, "and his Death Eaters. However, our contact, as you put it Hermione, has assured me that Harry is alive and although he is injured he is coping fairly well under the circumstances."

There was a short silence, while everyone processed the information. Harry was injured, he was hurt… But-

"What circumstances, sir?" Hermione interrupted his thoughts. Sirius grinned at how perceptive she was. "Do we know precisely how good or bad Harry's circumstances are so we can have an accurate picture of his welfare at this point?" Ron and Neville were staring open mouthed at Hermione whilst Luna was nodding. Ginny was frowning; she had barely let any other expression cross her face since entering the office. "After all, depending on the circumstances Harry could have a broken arm or… or…" Hermione shook her head and didn't continue. She didn't need to.

Dumbledore didn't seem to be surprised at her insight. "Unfortunately the letter I received from my contact did not specify," noting everyone's frowns, Dumbledore explained, "bear in mind that our contact is in a very dangerous situation. To ensure his own and Harry's safety he must under no circumstances get caught. If Voldemort finds he has a spy in his ranks then he will kill the spy, cutting off our supply of information, and most likely either kill Harry or change his plans and location. This means that I cannot contact him and when he contacts me his letters are often hasty and contain the bare minimum about matters pertaining to Harry's current situation and more about how we are going to get Harry out of his current situation."

Hermione nodded and Sirius begrudgingly admitted that it made sense.

"You will also be please to hear that I have recently heard from my contact and it is finally possible to attempt a rescue." Sirius's ears shot up at this; Dumbledore hadn't mentioned this in the meeting! Whilst the students gasped and bombarded Dumbledore with questions Sirius marched up to Dumbledore and nipped his ankle… hard.

"Erm…" Sirius snorted as Dumbledore made this extremely unDumbledore-like sound and discreetly rubbed his ankle, "indeed, the Order has already planned a rescue," Sirius saw that Neville and Luna didn't look too surprised at the mention of the Order, "and the word from my contact merely means that it is now safe to go ahead tomorrow. Just be warned that I haven't mentioned this to any members of the Order yet as if word was to reach Voldemort it would be catastrophic.

"As to your final question, Hermione, I'm afraid that it would be impractical for you to help in rescuing Harry given that you are neither members of the Order, nor have you completed your education. Not to mention that fact that the adults responsible for you would strongly object." Sirius amused himself for a second with the image of what Molly would do if Dumbledore told her that every single one of her children would be portkeying off to Voldemort's lair tomorrow. Ron grinned a little but Ginny just grimaced.

"However, if Pop- Madam Pomfrey approves you may certainly help her in the Hospital Wing, I'm sure she would appreciate somebody to retrieve potions or other such necessities whilst she tends to her patients. However, I must ask that you-"

Sirius never did find out what Dumbledore didn't want toe kids to do for at that moment there was a swoosh as Kingsley arrived in the office through the floo (Neville had turned a yelp into a cough).

"I was wondering if I could have a word with you, Albus," he eyed the children suspiciously.

"You may indeed, Kingsley, whatever you have to say can be said in front of everyone in my office; they are trust worthy." He nodded to the children who had shuffled slightly closer together and looked a bit awkward at the presence of Kingsley (Sirius was trying not to look awkward, when you're a dog pretty much everything looks imposing).

Kingsley nodded. "We tested all of the teachers past and present, with a few obvious exceptions, with veritaserum. All were willing except for Umbridge."

"Big surprise," Ron muttered under his breath.

"But we tested her anyway, of course. Obviously Quirrel and Barty couldn't be tested, and Lockheart, well, even if he was responsible; its' not likely that he would remember it," Sirius could feel Ron fidget nervously.

"Well, we do seem to have a little problem with out Defence teachers."

Everyone in the room rolled their eyes. Calling it a 'little problem' was like calling Voldemort a harmless troublemaker. Sirius himself would volunteer if it wasn't for the fact that ninety nine percent of the world thought that he was a madman who went around blowing up streets, escaping from high security prisons with dark magic and hanging out with Death Eaters and Dark Lords in his spare time.

"I found that no teachers were working with Voldemort or passing on information about Harry." Sirius frowned; that didn't make sense. "Of course, it is possible that Voldemort had obliviated the informant, or it could have been Crouch junior."

"I'm afraid the later is out of the question, Kingsley. The information Voldemort has had access to includes our talk after the Tri-wizard tournament. The only real option now is to ask Severus whether he can remember being as careless to leave any student alone in his office."

Looking at Ron, Ginny, Luna, Neville and even Hermione, Sirius could tell they had no idea what on Earth was going on. Their eyes had been darting from Kingsley to Dumbledore as if watching a – whatever that muggle sport was called – match.

"You should also know that as a precautionary measure we asked whether they had deliberately harmed a student."

"And?" Dumbledore's eyes flashed dangerously as he saw Ron and Hermione shoot each other looks.

"You might want to have a word with your caretaker, he spent twenty minutes telling me of how he wanted to bring back medieval punishments. But other than that… Well, I'll cut to the chase. It turns out it was Umbridge who ordered the dementors after Harry last summer."

Sirius sat up and started growling loudly; that cow almost had Harry expelled! He could have lost his wand! The thunder in Dumbledore's eyes was nothing like the hurricane in Sirius's.

"I'm afraid this is not all, Albus. I believe you were informed of the fact that Harry was given numerous detentions." Dumbledore nodded, his face growing paler. Sirius continues growing, what that that cow done to Harry?

Dumbledore nodded and gestured for Kingsley to continue. Sirius could see that Ron's ears were starting to go red and Hermione was staring at her shoes; they knew what had happened.

"She used a blood quill on him, Albus."

There was instant uproar, Dumbledore stood up so sharply his chair fell backwards, tumbling to the floor and knocking over a spindly table with a delicate silver instrument that looked like it was worth the Malfoy's fortune placed on it. Sirius didn't hear him thunder about manhandling his students. Nor did he head Luna, Neville or Ginny's gasps; Sirius's head was filled with his own deafening barks.

That bitch! How many times had Harry been forced to mutilate his own hand? What had she made him write? Why in Merlin's name hadn't he told anybody?

Sirius ran to the door, intent on storming to the Hospital Wing and chewing Umbridge's hand off in punishment. How dare she? As id Harry didn't have enough wrong with his life! Why did everyone seen to have it in for him?

"NO SNUFFLES!" Sirius froze at Dumbledore's commanding tone. He vaguely noticed that Ginny was gripping his shoulders, trying to prevent him from scratching the door to pieces; Sirius knew he was going to regret those long claw marks on the exquisitely carved door later, but right now he didn't much care.

In the next instant, Dumbledore was crouched by his side, a firm hand on his shoulder. His eyes were now calm, soothing Sirius's frantic ones.

"She will be punished later, Sirius." He whispered, "right now Harry needs you." Sirius pushed his anger down and let the guilt bubble through

Following back to Dumbledore's desk, Sirius growled at Ron and Hermione, letting them know that as soon as he was back in his human form he was going to make Molly Weasley seem like a cute little kitten when she was angry.

"You knew about this?" Ron and Hermione winced at Dumbledore's ability to make you feel like you were three inches tall. Sirius was almost sure Hermione was going to start crying soon; it was the bookworm's worst nightmare, the Headmaster himself being disappointed in her.

"Yes, sir." Ron's voice was barely audible. His eats were the same colour as his hair and he seemed to be fascinated by his shoelaces.

"Why didn't you tell me, or professor McGonagall?" Sirius could hear the slight tinge of guiltiness in Dumbledore's voice. Sirius found it hard to ignore the anger he felt towards the man; he had ignored Harry for an entire year when Harry needed his guidance, but this wasn't hid fault. He wasn't to know the extent of Umbridge's punishments.

"Harry didn't want us to. He asked us not too."

"Why, Mister Weasley? Do you happen to know just why he refused to tell a responsible adult?"

"BECAUSE YOU IGNORED HIM FOR THE WHOLE YEAR, THAT'S WHY! AFTER ALL THAT HAPPENED! AFTER THE TRI-WIZARD! AFTER CEDRIC! AFTER EVERYTHING! YOU JUST IGNORED HIM! HE LOOKED UP TO YOU, SIR, HE RESPECTED YOU! YOU WERE LIKE A SODDING GRANDFATHER TO HIM! AND YOU IGNORED HIM! YOU COMPLETELY BLANKED HIM!"

There was a stunned silence. Sirius would have willingly bet the Black fortune against Hermione Granger yelling at Dumbledore at the top of her voice, but here it was; Hogwarts' most conscientious student telling off Albus Dumbledore. And what was even more amazing was that Hermione was right.

"You have no idea how much it hurt him, professor," Hermione said softly before she clutched her cheat and fell unconscious.

"Hermione!" Ron was by her side in an instant, lightly shaking her shoulders, staring at her now calm face.

"Kingsley, if you could please take Hermione back to the Hospital Wing." Kingsley nodded and with a swish of his wand Hermione rose into the air, "oh, and inform Madam Pomfrey that her condition is completely my fault."

Kingsley had nearly disappeared from view when the occupants of the office heard his voice call out, "one more thing, Albus. I think you should consider getting that dog neutered."

Sirius made a mental note to bite Kingsley when he next saw him. And maybe Ginny, if she kept that smile on her face for any longer. Even now Sirius somewhat resented his animagus form. Of all the amazing creatures in the world, he had to be a dog; he could have been a lion, or a leopard, or some other infinitely cool animal. Instead he gets a ruddy dog that looks like the Grim. Still, it was better than a rat. There was a long silence in which just about everybody in the office that knew of Sirius's identity looked at him with a mock thoughtful gaze.

"Hermione was correct, as per usual. I made a lot of mistakes this year. I hope you will forgive me if I blame them on my age. I have forgotten what it is like to be youthful as you are." Sirius had the feeling that he was included in this statement.

"If you don't mind, sir" Ron's tone made it perfectly honest that even if he did mind he wanted answers, "why did you completely ignore Harry this year?"

"I'm afraid that is a matter for me to discuss with Harry on his own." Ron shrank slightly under Dumbledore's gaze, "if he wishes to inform you later then it is his own choice. However, I assure you there was a valid reason, even if it were not the most sensible course of action." Ron nodded, seemingly contented with this. "Now, am I correct in assuming that we have discussed everything you came here to discuss." Ron nodded and made towards the door.

BANG!

The fireplace exploded into life, sending soot through the office as someone fell onto the rich carpet.

"They took her…" Dumbledore and Luna had rushed over to tend to the man on the floor. His arm was obviously broken and his robes were singed. Sirius could smell burnt flesh. "Couldn' stop 'em… They took 'er…"

Ron and Ginny were rooted to the spot. Arthur Weasley has just fallen unconscious in Dumbledore's arms.

x0x0x

OK, I didn't really like that chapter. I struggle with transition chapters, which is why I'm useless at anything other than oneshots. Next chapter is probably my favourite.


	5. Ruthless

Disclaimer: Me? Own Harry Potter? In your dreams (and mine too).

Warning: Language and violent play havoc on this chapter (lets just say it was this chapter that told me the rating really was an M, not just a high T)

Small note about the future of this story in my profile. Sorry I didn't update earlier. I'd forgotten that I'd written this chapter and not uploaded it. :s

x0x0x0x

**Ruthless**

_Harry – Thursday, sometime in the early afternoon_

He knew it now. He knew he was not going to make it out alive. He knew that he was never going to escape from this hellish prison and he knew why.

Because the first chance he was given he would gladly take his own life instead of facing what was awaiting him.

What did it matter? He was to die anyway. He would rather die of his own hand rather than have the Dark Bastard humiliate and torture him before ending it in the most painful way possible. And if he was dead what purpose did capturing his close friends or family have? True, they were members of the Order, but no one could argue with the fact that being close to Harry catapulted one up to near the top of Voldemort's 'to kill' list.

Harry shuddered, an icy chill creeping over him as he contemplated what little future he had left, before gasping. The tremors of his body had again sparked sharp pains from the numerous tortures he had been forced to endure from the Death Eaters and Voldemort himself. Still tightly chained to the wall without his glasses he could barely see his body, but what flesh he could make out was deathly pale, imprinted with deep purple and green bruises and dashed with welts, cuts and ticks, that irritably tingled every time he moved. He could feel tracks of cuts, both deep and shallow traced in his skin, tearing and opening every time he flinched from a memory or distant sound, sending him into agony that would seem to last forever.

Harry drowsily raised his head, ignoring the thumping pain in his head and the ache in his neck, to look out of the small window. It was his only connection to the outside world and he was eternally grateful for it. Harry felt it was his only anchor to sanity. He knew it made no difference, but it was oddly comforting to have a source of light in the room, albeit depressingly faint due to the abysmal weather.

It was also the only means he had of telling the time. He guessed it was early afternoon… Wednesday, maybe Thursday… He was starting to lose track of time now. He knew he'd been unconscious for long periods of time, and he knew he stared off into space, only to be jerked form his lethargic state when the door was hurled open.

But he didn't sleep. He knew that. Every time he closed his eyes he would see them. Everywhere. Their wands glowing sinisterly, the knives covered in blood glinting eerily in their soft glow. They'd slowly approach him. He could never see them. Their ragged, excited breath and the violent pumping of his heart were the only sounds to be heard. The harsh breathing drew closer. Even if he closed his eyes Harry could still sense the dagger, hovering inches from his skin, ready to slowly sink it's blade…

Harry gasped and jerked forwards, catapulting from the nightmare, clenching his teeth as the pain swept over him. He shuddered as he felt a warm trickle of blood flow down his chest and he fought against the images of daggers that he'd been immersed in only moments ago.

Harry moaned in pain and tried so force his instincts to trash and jerk into submission. Gulping huge breaths of the stale air, Harry managed for force his body to hang limp from the manacles, despite the tremors still running through him.

Harry swore lightly as the trembling finally subsided to the throbbing ache that Harry knew wouldn't go away. That was precisely the reason he could not sleep. Images of blood, Voldemort or torture would tear through his mind, waking him the instant he dropped off. Harry knew that the only way he was going to rest was if he fell into unconsciousness.

With nothing left to do Harry's mind drifted. Thoughts of Sirius and the Order ran through his head. It was a welcome change from dark nightmares of tortures. Harry knew that Pomfrey would have healed Sirius long before now. She had managed to patch Harry up on numerous occasions over the years and Sirius would be no problem.

But if Sirius was awake, why hadn't he come yet? A small part of Harry's mind told him that his prison would be damned impossible to find, and Sirius could probably search England for years and never find him … Harry didn't even know that he was in England. But that part of Harry's mind was becoming smaller and smaller as all rational thought fell away and instinct took over.

Merlin, he was so hungry. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a proper meal … He knew it was before the exams. His nerves had been all over the place at that point, and even if he had felt like eating much he didn't think he'd have had the time. And he was deliriously thirsty. He knew that he'd been given a few brief sips of water when the Death Eaters could no longer hear his screams, but that was it. Just enough to stay alive and give the Death Eaters their satisfaction.

Harry winced as his scar flared again. A brief thrill of satisfaction ran through Harry before he threw it off, disgusted. He hated the sensation of being Voldemort's mood receptor.

And he hated that something had pleased Voldemort. Harry drew in a trembling breath as he realised that the ache in his scar hadn't decreased; it was increasing! Harry forced himself to take calm deep breaths. Inside he was cowering with terror, but he couldn't show Voldemort that. He wasn't going to let Voldemort break him.

Harry started to shake as the he felt Voldemort draw closer. The manacles rubbed painfully against his wrists as his arms trembled violently. No! No … he had to stop this … he had to keep his cool in front of Voldemort; he couldn't let him know that he was affecting him like this.

So when Voldemort swept into the room Harry was ready for him; glaring, not letting tears of pain fall from his eyes and gritting his teeth hard in an attempt not to show how ghastly the searing of his scar was.

"Good afternoon, Harry," Voldemort's silky tone sent shivers up Harry's spine, "I hope you're finding your stay most enjoyable." Voldemort continued, leaving no room for a sarcastic reply. "I'm afraid we don't have time for pleasantries today, Harry," Harry snorted, "there is lots to do, and little time to do it in." Harry could make out a few whispered voices and shuffling from beyond the door, but the shadows were too dense to make out anything.

Voldemort flashed his teeth in a ferocious grin as Harry took a shaky breath, trying not to flinch away from Voldemort's disfigured face.

"Dear me, Harry," Harry cringed; Voldemort's voice was a dangerously soft hiss, "you don't seen to be enjoying your stay here." There was a short cruel laugh before Harry replied.

"Well, I'm afraid your Death Eaters aren't the best of company." Harry barely recognised his own voice: the words were quiet, despite the effort Harry made to say them loudly and the scratchy tone took away any hint of sarcasm that Harry had injected into his words.

Voldemort's smile grew wider and his crimson eyes glowed. Harry groaned inwardly, knowing he'd fallen into some kind of verbal trap. Harry stayed silent, icy sensations washing over him as he imagined what Voldemort was going to do to him.

"Maybe you should spend more time getting to know each other then, Harry." Harry closed his eyes for a moment, trying not to start shaking again; he opened them to find the end of a hauntingly familiar yew wand. Harry reflexively jerked backwards seconds before the now familiar pain of the cruciatus sank in … Harry could hear himself screaming hoarsely … Voldemort's manic laughter … a livid cry of both pain and sorrow …

Bracing against the sensation of shards of glass tearing his skin, Harry tried to open his eyes … that scream was not right … but he couldn't do it. The pain was so intense and he couldn't break free from it; its fierce currents were dragging him down, deeper and deeper. Harry felt his vision darken beneath his eyelids and his limbs felt sluggish and slow.

Harry finally fell free of the fiery agony that consumed him. Forcing open his eyes Harry saw a flash of red and heard a whimper before he slumped as far as his shackles would allow.

x0x

They were here again. Touching him, stabbing him. Small shocks of pain were slowly creeping along all of his many cuts and bruises. Merlin, wouldn't they have waited until he was awake. Maybe he hadn't been unconscious for very long. That would explain while they were still there.

There was a sharp pain across his abdomen and he suppressed a wince. Maybe they'd go away if he didn't wake up. He cold tell from the light throbbing of his scar that Voldemort wasn't in the room, and really, Death Eaters weren't going to notice if he was playing dead.

There were a few minutes of quiet movement before the slash across Harry's chest began to burn and sting; Harry shivered. Several more minutes later the jolts of pain began to fade, although the throbbing sensation continued.

With a start Harry realised that the throbbing was due to something being pressed against the wound! Concentrating, Harry's foggy mind finally realised that a damp cloth was being held to his chest, cleaning it from any dirt that had found its way in there.

The pressure was gently removed before Harry felt the damp cloth gently rubbing against his chest, cleaning away the blood.

Harry was confused, the most care he'd received in this hell hole was a Death Eater storming in, forcing what Harry recognised as a blood replenishing potion down his throw and briefly looking over him to make sure his injuries weren't fatal; just enough to keep him alive seemed to be the general trend of thought amongst the Death Eaters. Not only would the Dark Bastard be pissed if they killed him, but they'd miss out on the next bout of 'fun' on the brat.

No, something was wrong here, he knew the cut on his cheek had started to become infected, and the Death Eaters had take great joy in picking at the wound, aggravating the sore flesh (though Harry had managed to bite one of the offending Death Eaters once).

"Oh Harry, what have they done to you?"

Harry's eyes snapped open. What met his eyes nearly sent him spiralling into unconsciousness. No! This wasn't happening, it couldn't. The breath caught in Harry's throat and a huge lead weight settled in his stomach. He knew Voldemort's threat was serious, but really, this was too much, and it had happened so quickly …

Harry numbly felt himself begin to tremble and shake, starting to hyperventilate due to his quick, panicked breaths. Harry was drowning in an overwhelming panic, getting more and more distressed until Mrs. Weasley gently wrapped her arms around his torn body and using that special skill that only mothers seem to posses, brought Harry away from his panic where he slowly sank into oblivion once more.

x0x

The first thing he realised when he felt his body return to him was that his shackles were no longer present; his arms were pressed down by his side, but not in an offensive manor.

Harry shivered, despite the unusual feeling of warmth surrounding him. His scar prickled and he subconsciously dug his face further into the oddly comforting warmth. As his mind drifted into awareness he suddenly remembered the source of warmth and comfort and tried to pull away, oddly embarrassed about the motherly embrace that Mrs. Weasley was giving him.

"Shhh, Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley's quiet voice hushed him as he squirmed in her grip. "You'll just hurt yourself dear." Harry stopped trying to free himself from the motherly hug but his cheeks were still tinged with embarrassment.

There was an awkward pause. Harry took the chance to assess his surroundings, anything not to look directly at Mrs. Weasley. They were now in a smaller, darker room. The only light was that of a small flickering candle fixed to a bracket on the wall out of both of their reaches. There was nothing much in the room; the walls were dank and grey and the only furniture was a wide plank of wood that was obviously supposed to play the roll of a bed. Harry's back was pressed into the corner between the bench and the wall and Mrs. Weasley was facing him, her back to the old, yet strong looking wooden door. Harry felt a surge of something in his stomach at the protective gesture.

He was brought back to his surroundings when Mrs. Weasley removed her cloak and wrapped it around Harry's shivering form. Harry smiled gratefully, the warmth soaking into his cold form before blurting out his question.

"Wh-," Harry swallowed, his voice scratchy on his irritated throat, "what happened? I mean … how? … Did they, y'know, hurt you?" Harry winced as he saw Mrs Weasley shudder slightly.

"I was in Diagon Alley," Mrs. Weasley spoke slowly, as if considering just how much information to give to Harry, "shopping for some potions ingredients as well as some other … things and … and then suddenly they were everywhere. Death Eaters. I'd never seen as many in one place. They all went after me," Harry felt a roll of guilt slide over him. He knew exactly the reason why. "It was horrible, people screaming everywhere. And then, well, then I found myself here." Mrs. Weasley's voice was strong and solid, but her eyes shone oddly in the half-light. Harry subconsciously tightened his grip around her, trying to give her some of the comfort that she needed.

"Merlin, Harry dear, we're so worried about you! If it wasn't for Professor Snape we wouldn't even know if you were alive!" Harry stiffened, but Mrs. Weasley didn't appear to notice.

There was another awkward pause. Neither could really seem to come up with something to say in this situation. Harry could feel himself sinking into habits he usually only displayed at the Dursleys; he went silent and let his mind wander, slowly slipping into a brooding, lethargic state.

"We're going to get out of here, Harry."

Harry started; it had been at least half an hour since any words had been spoken between the two. Harry's head shot up and he shot Mrs. Weasley a glance, trying to hide his wince at the jabbing pain caused by moving injured skin too fast.

"There's a plan, Harry dear," Her hard, confident voice softened slightly at the term of endearment, "You're getting out of here. We're going to get out of here. It'll be all right; you'll be healed up in no time. Professor Dumbledore's got a plan and Professor Snape-"

"Is a treacherous bastard," Harry interrupted, blurting out the thing that had burning and twisting at his insides since Mrs. Weasley had first mentioned the deceitful potions master. Harry glared at a spot across the room and jerked backwards from Mrs. Weasley's warm arms. "It was him. He was the Death Eater. The git's been working for Voldemort all along."

Mrs. Weasley seemed too shocked to flinch at the Dark Lord's name. She was frozen to the spot. Her arms that until a moment ago had been comforting Harry were tensed and her fists clenched. In the faint light Harry could just make out the tips of Mrs. Weasley's ears darkening in rage.

Harry gently leant his body back on to the wall, being careful not to aggravate his wounds. He could numbly hear Mrs. Weasley swearing violently under her breath whilst his back tingled at the pressure of leaning on the hard stone wall.

There was nothing either of them could say; no words of false comfort would be of use now. Both Harry and Mrs. Weasley knew that the chances of themselves and the Order escaping from this were remarkably slim due to one man's betrayal.

It was an odd feeling, Harry mused as he felt his tired and starved body give way to sleep, that deep gut wrenching knowledge that the Darkest Wizard in a century, probably more now, was one small step from destroying everything that Harry held dear.

x0x0x

When Harry next opened his eyes he found himself in pure darkness. The veil of black was so thick that Harry couldn't make out anything in front of him. If it weren't for the fact that his eyes were blinking back tears of pain from his injuries he would have assumed that his eyes were not in fact open. This told Harry that there were two possible things that could have happened; enough time for the candle to burn out its supply of wax could have passed. Or worse, someone had come into the room and blown out the candle and done Merlin knows what else.

With a jolt of icy fear, Harry flung his arms out, trying to find Mrs. Weasley. Swearing as his hand hit the stone wall of his prison, Harry began to let his arms gently probe the air around him, painfully shifting his body further along the hard wooden bench as it became obvious that Mrs. Weasley was no longer next to him.

Harry tried to ignore both the agony of his body and the gut wrenching fear that consumed him. Harry had never before been in pitch darkness. If anything he'd have thought that this wouldn't bother him, having spent a good portion of his life in a dark cupboard, but even then there was a small, shade-less bulb, or the glow of the hallway light that the Dursleys could never be bothered to turn off. He felt so helpless. How could he have any control over his surroundings if he couldn't even see them?

"Mrs. Weasley?" He asked the darkness, his voice barely audible and his throat jarring painfully. "A-are you there?" Harry had reached the end of the bench and had not yet found Mrs. Weasley; he could feel himself get more and more hysterical. He felt so helpless in the darkness! What if Voldemort or something just as evil was only inches away from him. The pain in his scar had been a steady throbbing since being placed in this cell; it no longer ebbed and peaked as Voldemort's distance from him changed. Voldemort could be barely inches from him, ready to strike out at any second.

Harry shivered to himself; he was no longer wearing Mrs. Weasley's cloak. That in itself was a bad sign. Carefully lowering his feet to the hard, cold floor, Harry winced at the violent shaking that his legs displayed as soon as he attempted to put any weight on them. Obviously he was in no condition to walk anymore.

There was a minute sound in the far corner of the cell, opposite Harry. Starting violently at the sound, Harry fell from his precarious position on the bench and tumbled to the ground, letting out a small yelp as he did so.

Harry sat, paralysed as he heard the sound again. There was definitely something there. Harry pressed his back into the wall, his instincts forcing him to seem as small and insignificant as possible, his breathing becoming harsh and irregular.

Harry's mouth went dry as the sound moved towards him. He was hyperventilating now, becoming frantic at the almost childish thought of monsters lurking in dark corners. Harry no longer cared that he was hysterical, he just wanted to escape, some way or another. His mind was a mess from both physical and emotional abuse and he no longer held the ability to act in a rational or calm manner.

Harry let out a piercing scream as a hand clutched his wrist and started thrashing uncontrollably as the grip tightened slightly and another hand came out to touch his shoulder. He was totally blind to the world around him and the strategic side of himself had been buried in the depths of his mind.

"Harry!" At the sound of his name Harry thrashed harder, choking back another panic-driven scream.

"Harry! Listen to me Harry!" A part of Harry told him that he should recognise that voice and listen to it, but it was pushed to the side.

"Shhhhh, Harry, calm down, dear. It's alright, I'm not going to hurt you, you're okay, hush now."

There was something about the way that voice was so familiar and comforting that soothed Harry's raging terror. The moment Harry stopped screaming he was gently pulled into a tentative, yet somehow stifling hug that was unmistakably Mrs. Weasley's.

Harry blushed, knowing that Mrs. Weasley had seen – or rather, heard – his hysterical fit, before the realisation came that this woman did not care. She didn't think any less of him for being scared or for lashing out at her. She wasn't going to hold it against him and remind him of it whenever she was angry with him. She wasn't going to lock him up in a cupboard for letting his emotions go. She truly cared for him.

It was that thought which gave Harry the strength to rest his head upon Mrs. Weasley's shoulder and allow himself to burst into tears.

"How touching." Snape's simply Slytherin tone rang out as a candle flared to light in the darkness.

Oh shit.

Of all the people in this place to have a fit of sobbing in front of, it had to be him.

"Fuck off," Harry said, trying to hide the bubbliness of his voice and wincing slightly as Mrs. Weasley's grip tightened around him in a protective motion, irritating his cuts but hiding most of his curled up body from Snape.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape hissed, stalking closer. Harry could feel Mrs. Weasley trembling with a mixture of anger and fear, her face turned away from Harry's, staring at Snape with what Harry knew to be a glare to rival that of the treacherous Potions Master.

"Now as much as I love to watch your teenage histrionics, Potter, I'm afraid that I actually have a purpose in being here. Snape's eyes glittered in the candlelight as he drew his wand and focused it on Mrs. Weasley who had released her grip on Harry and was now standing in front of him, her arms out, protecting Harry.

Harry struggled to stand in order to gently push Mrs. Weasley out of harms way. He was not a helpless baby anymore. It was his fault she was in this mess, if anything he should have been protecting her. But Harry's body was weak from the huge amount of energy he had spent in the past twenty minutes.

"You really are pitiful, Potter!" he snarled at noticing Harry's failed attempts. "If you can't even handle this, what chance do you really think you have against the Dark Lord? None, Potter, surviving on something as pitiful as luck and circumstance for fourteen years is hardly a shining accomplishment."

"Compared to killing thousands of innocent people?" Mrs. Weasley spat out, her harsh tone of voice surprising Harry.

"Exterminating dirty muggles and Mudbloods is a grand achievement, Prewitt." Harry saw Mrs. Weasley flinch at her maiden name; most likely due to the lingering grief of her brothers that Ron had told Harry about during one of their many talks about Voldemort related topics in Grimmauld Place and Hogwarts.

"Now that your pathetic attempts to procrastinate are over, move aside," Snape pointed his wand at Mrs. Weasley and flicked it to the side, as if pointing to a corner when going to tell a child to stand in it.

"No." Mrs. Weasley's voice was firm and commanding as she straightened her back to fortify her position in front of Harry.

"Move now," Snape's voice had hardened and yet become even silkier, "before I force you to." Harry's stomach lurched at the thought of Mrs. Weasley lying dead and cold like Cedric, or smiling distantly at a blank spot on the wall like Neville's parents … or worse.

Mrs. Weasley obstinately shook her head, her hands clenching into fists and the tips of her ears getting lost in the crimson hair. "I'll die before I see Harry hurt." The whispered words had more of an effect than anything she could have shouted. Harry felt a surge of affection towards Mrs. Weasley that briefly overcame the whirlwind of other emotions.

"Then so be it," hissed Snape as his want slashed out in a non-verbal spell. Harry's heart stopped as Mrs. Weasley crumpled to the ground in pain. He bent down to hep her but immediately found himself in Snape's iron grip.

Lashing out with a strength that Harry didn't know he possessed, Harry flailed in Snape's arms, his leg hitting something which let out a clear crack. Scrambling free, Harry used all of his strength to crawl over to Mrs. Weasley, who had stopped writhing in pain and was now holding her stomach with a pained expression. She still managed to drag Harry into a protective hug as soon as he came within the range of her arms.

Harry had just leant back in order to check how badly Mrs. Weasley was injured when an ear-splitting explosion was issued from Snape's wand. Harry flinched and reflexively covered his ears with his hands before being magically flung against the wall, causing stars to erupt in front of his eyes.

He attempted to shake his head to clear them away, but found himself unable to move: he'd been petrified. Harry blinked rapidly; wanting the dizzy spell over as soon as possible, but the last star had barely faded before he found himself under the all-together too familiar pain of the cruciatus. Unable to succumb to the urge of writhing or screaming, Harry's eyes darted rapidly around the room, animal-like, attempting to escape but unable to, tears leaking out of his eyes, the salt water adding to the intense effects of the cruciatus of the nicks and scratches coating his face.

Then, finally, it was over, as soon as he was released from the petrifying spell he jerked himself into the foetal position, retching fiercely to the sound of deep, unnerving chuckles.

"Simply pathetic, Potter, your feebleness continues to astound me." Harry didn't bother to reply, instead concentrating on taking deep breaths and steadying the dizziness that plagued his mind.

He lifted his head only to see Mrs. Weasley lying petrified just as he had been, Snape's wand trained on her, but his face turned towards Harry, smirking evilly. Harry shook his head, pleadingly, unable to find his voice. He couldn't let Mrs. Weasley feel that pain. He didn't care if it was his fucking 'saving people' thing, but he couldn't let her get hurt.

"Stand up, Potter."

Ignoring Mrs. Weasley's desperate eyes, Harry struggled to his knees, his whole body still shaking violently. He gripped the wall and tried to rise to his feet, but collapsed to the floor moments later, gasping as the hard stone floor met his kneecap.

Shaking his head at the way Snape's wand flicked once again to Mrs. Weasley. Harry tried again, slowly shifting his aching back up the wall, until finally, after what seemed like hours, Harry was upright, his knees bent and his whole body shaking violently.

"Now, come here Potter." Harry bit the inside of his lip. The last thing he wanted to do was go anywhere near that bastard, but he still had Mrs. Weasley's prone form under that near-black wand. Having no choice, Harry pushed himself away from the wall and stumbled towards Snape, desperately trying not to keel over in front of him.

Suddenly, a hand shot out, grabbing hold of Harry's hair. Harry flinched, causing more pain to his scalp. Out of the corner of his eye he could see tears trailing down the motionless face of Mrs. Weasley, but his attention was stolen away by a painful jerking of his head as Snape shook him maliciously and pulled him to his full height, stretching his painful skin and causing some of the more recently healed cuts to reopen.

A cold hand wrapped around the fingers in Harry's right hand. As realisation dawned the feeling of swallowing an ice cube appeared and Harry began to struggle slightly, trying to free his hand.

Whilst lashing out he'd broken one of Snape's fingers. Unable to free himself, Harry braced himself for the pain that he knew he was going to suffer.

"You know, Potter," Snape hissed in his ear, forcing all the hairs on the back of Harry's neck to stand on end, "it would be so much easier to do this with a simple spell, wouldn't it?" Snape tightened his grip and there was a moment of tense silence before there was a sharp crack and Harry yelped in pain. "But not nearly as," there was a second crack and Harry forced himself not to scream, "satisfying." Bile rose up in this throat at the sound of three more snaps and the sharp pain that went with them.

Without even getting the chance to look at or nurse his broken fingers, Harry found himself collapsing to the floor as Snape's grip on him relaxed, before being dragged, by the grasp on his head, from the room.

The moment Harry crossed the doorway, the door slammed shut, narrowly missing Harry's ankle and completely blocking Mrs. Weasley from view. Harry gulped, his gaze lingering on the door, hoping Mrs. Weasley would somehow free herself from the body bind in the pitch-black room.

"Oh, I assure you, Potter, she will die a very slow and painful death, though nowhere near as painful as yours." Harry's glare was more akin to a grimace as Harry's hand throbbed painfully.

There was a moment of silence before a potions vial was whipped out of Snape's robes and forced down Harry's throat. Harry half choked, trying to find some energy to resist, but it was too late. Harry could feel the cold potion settle in his stomach seconds before he felt his body become sluggish and slothful.

Having no resistance to Snape's manipulating hands, Harry felt tight ropes wind around his body as more Death Eaters emerged from the shadows and surrounded him before he felt his body lift and move through the catacomb of musty dungeons.

He'd lost track of time as his tired mind drifted back to Mrs. Weasley, hoping she wasn't in too much pain and hoping against hope that whatever plan Voldemort and Snape had formulated wouldn't lead to the death of anyone he cared about.

It was with that lingering thought that Harry was unceremoniously thrown at Voldemort's feet and found himself under the cruciatus before he'd even had time to blink.

Harry bit his lip as the pain tumbled through his body. He refused to give up. He refused to fall.

Because if he died, Mrs. Weasley would too.

x0x0x0x

Sorry about the wait guys. Summer went in a blink. And now I'm already stuck into the 'joys' of AS Levels.

Feedback of any kind is welcome.


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